Envy
by LittleMissMorbid
Summary: ."No one had ever told her to stop playing pretend." Marti-centric. Dark.


Martina Grace Venturi. That was the name on her birth certificate, but everyone called her Marti. She liked the color purple, acted out her fantasies as she pleased and generally lived inside her imagination with her friend Daphne as her sidekick. Daphne was usually a pretty good friend; she never asked to play a different game, always listened to Marti when she was needed, and generally enjoyed little Marti's company.

The day that Daphne began to change, however, was the day Marti's stepmother and father announced they were pregnant. Marti herself was a little pleased at this news—now she had a little helper like Derek had Edwin! But Daphne was not as delighted. She swore and left in a huff, her flowing skirt twirling about as her mood influenced little Marti's as well.

"You won't be _special _anymore, Marti," Daphne raged in anger, "You won't be the cute sibling that everyone feels drawn to!"

Naturally, after Daphne voiced these thoughts, Marti was afraid she would be forgotten. And so she began to act out, speaking in a high, toddler-like voice and reverting back to vocabulary much too young for her.

But Lizzie, bless her heart, took Marti aside and soothed her worries. She stopped acting out and even participated in the family shopping trips for the baby.

Daphne seethed, a black shadow in the corner of Marti's eye. She pouted and raged for the entire gestation period of the newest Venturi child, and soon, Marti and Daphne were no longer as close as they used to be.

Marti kept busy. She helped Nora decorate the baby's room, picked out the scrapbook and stickers for the infant, and lots of other things. She didn't need silly old Daphne.

When Jennifer was finally brought home, Marti was excited to get a closer look. She had Nora's eyes, and George's nose. And, judging by her attitude, a little bit of Casey's drama queen personality as well. Marti was fascinated by the newest arrival into her family, and looked forward to watching her grow up.

Babies require a lot of attention. But by the third missed ballet recital, Marti was feeling less understanding and more ignored. And Daphne took the chance to whisper into her head.

Nora and her father were also more irritable, and on more than one occasion, had told Marti to stop playing pretend and help them.

No one had ever told her to _stop _playing pretend.

"I told you they don't need you anymore, Marti. A baby is cuter, smaller, better than _you."_

Marti would find herself in absolute tears when Daphne talked to her, that malicious smile on her face, blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "That's not true!" Marti would half-heartedly protest, "Lizzie told me!"

The turning point was when Derek forgot to pick her up at a birthday party. Her _brother. _Her _Smerek. _

The baby wasn't _that _cute, Marti fumed, kicking her feet as she waited at the curb.

He finally arrived, of course, with ice cream in hand and a story about how little Jennifer was able to pee all over him. And Marti forgave him, a little.

But only a little.

Lying awake that night, as Jennifer wailed on and on about nothing in particular, Daphne came to visit.

"_I can help you."_

"How, Daphne?"

She was hesitant to listen to her friend at first; Marti was not fond of punishment. But she _did _miss her family's attention.

And most of all, she missed her world of imagination.

Nora's hysterics were inevitable, as were her father's.

But Marti didn't think she'd be caught. No, Marti was sneaky. The men in uniforms were smart, though, and after a few weeks of studying and analyzing the situation, they turned to her, speaking in the softest voices they could manage.

"Marti, did you suffocate Jennifer?"

"_Say no!" _Daphne roared.

"Yes." Marti said, "But I was lonely!"

So the uniformed men said they had to take her away for a while, to see some doctors. They took her to a place with white walls, a place that smelled of starch and medication. It smelled like a _hospital. _

They forced her to talk to an old man that sat in a squeaky leather chair. He had glasses and a bushy mustache. At first she refused, but they told her if she cooperated, she would go home. So she told the man about Daphne and about the ballet recitals, and her Smerek.

When Derek finally came to see her, he had tears in his eyes.

"Can I have a Special Smerek Smug?" she asked, arms open wide.

"Sure, Smarti." He took her into his arms and didn't let go for the whole time he was there. When he had to leave, Marti ran after him.

"Wait! Smerek, why can't I come with you?"

Derek wiped one tear with a balled up fist. "'Cause, Smarti, you have to stay here and get better."

"But I'm not sick, Smerek! Honest!"

He gave her the oddest little smile, then, and stepped into the prince without a word.

Her Smerek just left her there, as the nurses stood beside her.

"I'm not sick." Marti repeated, to the car disappearing down the road. Daphne stood beside her, sighing.

"_Smerek is just sad, Marti. You killed his sister."_

"You told me to, _Daphne!"_

Marti looked at the girl, a carbon copy of her, but with genuine evil running through her veins.

"_But I'm not _real_, Marti."_

"Time for your medication, Marti." The nurse said gently, and pulled her inside the building with the white walls.


End file.
